Chapter 2 — Triumph in the Capital
Chapter 2 — Triumph in the Capital
A sudden triumph in the capital was, in spite of the inconvenience that it caused the citizens, a highly welcome event.
Such events completely closed off the main arterial route of goods and people through the city, so it would inevitably be some sort of hindrance. At the same time, it was almost like a festival and therefore well-liked. Savvy merchants set up stalls by the closed main road and people who owned homes on that road would rent out their second floors and roofs for spectators in order to make some money.
It would cause more issues if it continued for days, but the occasional event was a good breather for the people. Therefore, when Freya’s group arrived from Valentia for their triumph, it received a positive response overall.
Several drake-drawn carriages made their way up the main road through the capital, escorted by a parade of armed soldiers. The alpha swarm raptor’s skull was carried by another carriage at the front of the procession. A significant amount of time had passed since it had been killed, so the skin and meat had started to rot and therefore been removed. The skull itself was still striking enough, however.
“Whoa! It was that big?! Just the head’s as big as my torso!”
“The woman on top was the one that took it down.”
“She’s huge too. I wouldn’t want to be standing next to her.”
“She’s a beauty, though; a real woman.”
The spectators’ gazes were all focused on the skull and the woman atop it. Her name was Victoria Kronkvist, or Skaji.
It was extremely rare for a woman to become a warrior on the Southern Continent. On top of that, she had taken down the raptor alpha at the head of her forces, in single combat, so those facts alone made it a good show.
Skaji also had looks that would draw attention regardless. She was midway through the 180s in height, and her body was clearly trained, even from a distance. Yet, she still had womanly curves around her chest and rear, and while her eyes were rather sharp, it didn’t stop her from being called beautiful.
She was an accomplished warrior from another land, so the attention she received was unsurprising. Her liege, Princess Freya, had told her that her martial accomplishments would make diplomacy easier, so she was consciously standing taller and saluting the crowds with her beloved tusk spear.
Behind her, the Uppasalan soldiers were also drawing gazes.
“Those Northerners sure are tall, though. What do you think, are all of them a whole head above me?”
“Seriously, are they a country of giants or something?”
Their hair colors were blond and light browns, with vivid eyes of blue, green, and gray. They had beards covering their chins to their mouths and even the smallest among them was 180 centimeters tall, while the tallest were imposing pillars of muscle well over 190 centimeters in height.
These strange giants were clad in leather armor and chainmail, marching armed with swords and short spears. The impact was enough to make the spectators want to step back even knowing that it was safe. Some of the younger men in the audience couldn’t help but pat at their arms or chests to compare themselves to the foreign military giants.
The extravagantly decorated carriage was in the midst of those men, protected, and didn’t garner that much attention in comparison. It was relatively big and drawn by four dash drakes, but it was a much more familiar sight for the citizens than the combination of the massive skull and armed men.
If its occupant—Princess Freya—had exposed her silver hair and ice-blue eyes to the public, then things might have been different, but the carriage’s windows were small in order to ensure her safety. She was sitting by the window and offering small waves with a smile to the crowd, but only a small portion of the spectators could see that.
If anything, Freya was paying more attention than the spectators, as it was the first time she was seeing a foreign country’s capital.
They are more prosperous than I expected. This main road is paved and has tracks for carriages as well. The homes are mostly wooden, but they are well-built and primarily two stories. There are even some three-story houses.
The citizens all seem at ease too, and I can’t see any underfed or orphaned children. When you take into account how recent the war was, you can certainly consider this a wealthy country.
The sights made Freya think once again that establishing trade between their two countries would be of considerable benefit to Uppasala.
“I would have preferred to continue negotiating with His Majesty Zenjirou...”
Despite her desires slipping out, she spoke quietly enough that the words didn’t reach the maid she had been loaned by Capua.
She had only spoken with Zenjirou for a few days, but that had been enough to get an idea of his general personality.
He was sincere and easy to work with to an extent where she could safely say he was the first noble she had seen who was like that. It seemed like he didn’t have the authority or rights to make the kinds of decisions that his title of prince consort would indicate. Despite that lack of power, though, Freya would prefer to work with someone sincere and unlikely to betray her. To put it more harshly, she saw him as someone who was easy to manage.
He is the prince consort and one of only two adult royals. Therefore, the problem will be the other, Her Majesty Aura. If my current information is accurate, she will be a formidable opponent, the silver-haired princess thought as she continued waving her pale hand.
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While the Uppasalan delegation was parading down the main street, Rafaello—who had arrived in the capital before them—was speaking with his father, Count Manuel Márquez, in the Márquez’s capital estate after their period of separation.
“It has been some time, Rafaello. Are you well? You accomplished your difficult role with aplomb,” Manuel started.
“Not at all, father. It was not particularly difficult. I wish to thank you, in fact, for arranging work that was both suited to me and worth doing.”
The conversation seemed somewhat reserved for father and son, but the two Márquezs had an exceptionally good relationship for two adult members of a noble family. The father saw his son as a worthy successor, while the son would take the prudent guidance of his father to heart. Regardless of any slight disagreements between them, most nobles would consider the relationship enviable.
Manuel shifted his gaze to the open window, through which the cheers of the citizenry were intermittently audible.
“It would appear that Princess Freya’s party has arrived safely. They must be rather popular if we can hear their cheers from here,” he remarked.
“The soldiers of the Northern Continent draw the eye. I also imagine that the raptor skull and Lady Victoria at the procession’s head make for a good show. Rumors of its extermination will have reached even here by now,” Rafaello answered with a smile. He had spent some of the journey from Valentia to the capital traveling with the delegation.
“A rather transparent way to put it,” the count chuckled reluctantly. He was sure that the source of those rumors was the very son sitting in front of him right now.
The rumors spreading in the capital held that Zenjirou had practically been in charge, standing on the battlefield, with Xavier Gaziel leading the main force while Victoria Kronkvist took on the alpha in single combat.
This was the same information the count had been able to acquire from reliable sources in the palace. In other words, the rumors were almost entirely unaltered as they spread. It went without saying that this was exceptionally rare. Rumors normally warped so much in their telling that one couldn’t help but wonder where on earth the final version had come from. For a rumor to remain correct as it spread naturally implied that it was being assisted somehow.
Rafaello most likely saw some kind of benefit to ensuring that the truth of the matter was known. The count would have to ask after it, but first, he would continue with his official business.
“I looked over the documents, but I would hear it directly from you as well. Were the negotiations with Princess Freya a success?”
His successor’s smile vanished at the question, and he nodded with a serious expression.
“Indeed. Sir Zenjirou and Princess Freya held optimistic discussions towards establishing trade between the Kingdom of Capua and the Kingdom of Uppasala. The fine details will likely be finalized within the capital now, but both families have agreed to individual trade.”
“I see,” Manuel smiled.
If the two families had established a monopolistic trade before other nobles could interfere, then the count could say that his expectations had been met. If international trade between the two countries was strictly between the two royal families, then even if Uppasalan trading vessels docked in Valentia, no one but Capua’s royal family would be able to trade directly with them.
If that was where things ended, there would be no reason for the count to celebrate, but of course, it did not end there. The main things the Uppasalans wished to trade for were national products of Capua like sugar, spices, drake hide, and drake bones. The royal family would be unable to prepare sufficient quantities for export on their own. Therefore, even if the trade was technically monopolistic, all it meant was that the direct negotiation would be between the families. There would still be opportunities for influential nobles to join indirectly.
The count planned to get in on the trade preferentially. His secret discussions with Aura had led to an agreement that in exchange for help with the negotiations, the royal family would not take a cut of the trade with the Márquez family, so financially, it was equivalent to trading directly.
“You have done well. I shall finalize things with Her Majesty later. I suppose that it will proceed as discussions between Her Majesty and Princess Freya, so it will likely take some more time, but that is hardly an issue.”
“I will leave it to you, father,” the son answered, trusting in his father as the latter confidently offered to finish things.
“Indeed.”
For his part, while it didn’t show on his face, Manuel was somewhat dissatisfied. His son had succeeded in following his instructions to achieve the desired result, but he was unhappy that Rafaello had grown too used to the final responsibility and benefits being taken by others.
It was true that his son was accomplished, but he was already past thirty. He needed to move from being an accomplished son to being a head of a great family, even if somewhat less accomplished, or else the count hesitated to leave the family to him. If he continued raising him as a capable, reasonable son, he would end up being too deferential and unsuited to leading the family.
Even as the count considered that he would need to take some drastic measures soon, he knew he could not do so in a situation so entwined with the royal family. Tucking away his worries in a corner of his mind, Manuel focused on the problem in front of him.
“Now, while I let this pass earlier, I shall confirm it now. The rumors spreading through the city are your doing?”
While it was worded as a question, it was closer to a statement, and Rafaello nodded soberly.
“It is. I had my subordinates spread them.”
“I would hear your reasoning.”
Rafaello had likely been prepared to explain from the beginning, so he answered smoothly. “Very well. Frankly, it was to maintain good relations with Sir Zenjirou. If rumors were allowed to spread naturally, his accomplishments would be exaggerated further. I believe that would be against his desires.”
The answer was not exactly what his father had expected, and the count looked at him questioningly before asking for clarification. “Excuse me? Explain? Not that Sir Zenjirou does not wish for his deeds to be exaggerated. I am aware that he is loyal to Her Majesty and that he takes great pains to avoid increasing his influence and destabilizing her power. Why would you make the effort to follow suit, though? Did he ask that of you?”
“He did not; it was my own choice,” Rafaello answered bluntly.
A crease appeared between Manuel’s brows. “Why, though? What did you see of Sir Zenjirou’s disposition?”
Rafaello straightened in his seat and took a deep breath before answering. “That it is terrifying. Sir Zenjirou is a monster.” His expression was utterly serious.
“What on earth? Explain.” The wily count narrowed his eyes upon hearing his son calling the utterly unaggressive prince consort a monster. If anyone else had said it, he might have laughed it off, but his son was not such a poor judge of character.
Rafaello considered his response, remaining silent in thought before replying, “Well, I can honestly think of no other way to describe a monster than ‘monster.’ Naturally, that does not refer to his appearance or abilities; it refers to his nature. He is different. He is fundamentally excessively kind and logical, and it took me some time to notice that he doesn’t show his true feelings in official situations, but treating him as an ordinary person will lead to making mistakes,” he declared.
“Hmm...I can accept that his values are somewhat peculiar, but I cannot fathom calling him a monster. Do you mean to say that he is as formidable as General Pujol or Marquis Lara?”
Rafaello leaned forward over the table and continued. “Not at all. General Pujol’s nature is ‘monstrously strong,’ and Marquis Lara’s is ‘monstrously powerful,’ but they are simply matters of strength and size. To describe it physically, it would be akin to calling people superhuman for being human and yet having the strength of a drake, or else being much taller than average. In comparison, Sir Zenjirou is truly a monster. It is like seeing a human and yet everything from the neck up being decoration, with the only weakness being the instep or else having a third arm hidden behind them.”
The count was now truly confused as his son likened the man to a true monster or apparition. Manuel could not see any possible way that the harmless consort was so dangerous.
The younger Márquez went on again. “Here, it would be a person that appears at first glance to be ordinary but was far more. You carried a sword and fought when you were younger, right? Think back to that. How likely do you think your victory against a person with average stamina and beginner-level swordsmanship but a specific physical oddity like I just mentioned would be?”
While the scenario was utterly impenetrable to the man, the count saw his son’s seriousness and thought about it properly before answering. “Well...it would be somewhat difficult, but if they lacked skill and physical abilities, then I would think it would be doable with relative ease.”
“Father, is that not assuming that you are aware of the fact that the monster’s head does not matter, that its instep is its only weakness, and that it has a third, hidden arm?” Rafaello asked immediately, his father’s answer being exactly what he had expected.
“Hm? Ah, yes, I suppose so,” he answered. The count was by no means unintelligent, and he immediately understood what his son wanted to say. “I see, you are quite correct. The reason I would win is that I knew about those weaknesses. If I faced a monster that appeared to be human without knowing it, then the moment I cut off its decorative head and thought I was victorious, it would kill me with the weapon in its third hand. Under those circumstances, I believe even General Pujol himself could fall, let alone me. Is that what you are afraid of? That no one knows what kind of mental offense he may launch or even what topics must remain unspoken?”
The younger man smiled in relief and nodded twice at his father’s understanding. “Exactly. I cannot help but feel that the nobles interacting with him are carelessly fondling an ancient dragon, not knowing what might displease it. Sir Zenjirou is indeed genial. Logical too. However, he is not emotionless. I have come to understand that in the near month I spent working with him.”
During that month in Valentia, Rafaello had seen Zenjirou act without restraining his emotions. For example, when he found out that Freya had goats, he had been overjoyed and immediately offered to buy them. While it might have been an emotion of delight, it proved that Zenjirou had emotional responses that could overwhelm his pragmatism. If he likewise had something which would cause rage or hatred to such a degree, he might likewise follow his emotions and demand the death penalty.
However, Rafaello had no idea what might provoke such a response. Rafaello himself was well-mannered, a good listener, and excelled at observation to divine the feelings and values of his negotiation partner. His main strength was in using that information about his partner’s desires and feelings which could not be put into words to smoothly carry out a conversation.
Despite that, he’d had no such success with Zenjirou. Of course, everyone had their quirks, so completely divining someone’s emotions and values was impossible. However, it went beyond that with Zenjirou. Rafaello couldn’t even begin to predict his values. If he knew a person’s age, gender, standing, and occupation, he could normally estimate what they would value. For example, a young nobleman who worked in the army would generally be delighted about being evaluated as having good prospects and would often grow angry about being seen as cowardly. There were, of course, exceptions. Usually, though, it was only partially incorrect. Conversely, people who didn’t match his estimations at all often turned out to have misrepresented their status or occupation.
By Rafaello’s categorization, Zenjirou was young, male, a royal, and unemployed. “Unemployed” might seem harsh, so you could also take his occupation to be “royalty” or even “prince consort.” For royalty and nobility, status and occupation often became the same thing.
Regardless, Zenjirou was utterly outside of what Rafaello thought a young male royal should be. Even if he changed the parameters, considering him female, or older, or a commoner, changing his occupation to farmer or military man, none of it fit him. It was perhaps what you would expect from someone from another world—he truly defied categorization.
“I became painfully aware that he is not some puppet of the queen like many nobles like to claim. He has a firm personality and actively plays the role of his own accord. He is less like a puppet and more of an automaton.”
Some of the nobles deriding him were planning on removing Aura from the throne and installing Zenjirou instead. They were under the misapprehension that they could control his puppet strings themselves.
The truth had been revealed to Rafaello, though. Zenjirou was no puppet. The proof lay in the fact that even so far from the queen’s instructions in Valentia, there was no delay in his decision-making. If he had been a mere puppet, he would have been caught flat-footed without the queen’s commands due to the rapidly changing circumstances.
That hadn’t happened, though; his actions had remained practically unchanged from when he was representing her within the royal palace. That was the most terrifying part. The man used his unshakable freedom and judgment to constantly do the best for the queen. It was akin to her having a second body that took a minimum of instruction to provide results on its own. If Rafaello’s estimation was correct, then Aura’s power would soon have an even firmer foundation.
He continued his explanation gravely. “Therefore, I would advise keeping our distance until we can understand Sir Zenjirou better. He would be a dangerous enemy but also perhaps a dangerous ally.”
When you didn’t understand a person’s disposition, attacking them was a risk, yet so too was currying favor. Calling a normal man “bold” would be a compliment, but it would doubtlessly insult a woman. Telling a noble they were unconcerned with money would be offensive as well, but not a merchant.
“Sir Zenjirou is entirely indifferent if you point out that he has no martial skill, and he doesn’t fail to follow Her Highness’s instructions. Not understanding what will please him and what will do the opposite makes me believe that keeping our distance would be in our best interest.”
Rafaello was offering this advice because he would be returning to their family’s territory once his business was concluded, but it was likely that his father, who worked in the capital, would interact with the man.
“Indeed, I understand your concerns, and you are correct. For the time being, I will conduct my business with the royal family via Her Highness.”
Aura was a formidable opponent, even for the sly old Márquez, but he knew her disposition. He could be outwitted, but he would not walk unaware into the lion’s den. His son breathed a sigh of relief and gave a nod.
“I do believe that would be best. Also, this is my own opinion, but I think that once we understand his character more, we would be well served by considering how to get Sir Zenjirou on our side.”
Manuel’s eyes widened at the rather rare proactive opinion from his son.
“Oh? So you wish to say that his aid would serve our family well? Is he that talented?”
Rafaello looked conflicted for a moment before answering, choosing his words carefully. “I would not say he is particularly talented. Naturally, he is by no means incompetent either. I merely think that if we can gain his allegiance, or even offer our own, our family will prosper. I believe that where the usual relationships between nobles and royals differ could well be points of commonality.”
“Continue,” his father bade him.
“Very well. I had the opportunity to interact with Sir Zenjirou for a relatively long time. He became even less comprehensible in the process, but there were several things that I was able to confirm. The first is that he is by no means as skilled at holding his emotions or expression in check as I first assumed. I am sure of this due to him immediately moving to buy some of the goats that Princess Freya said she had, prioritizing his emotional response. I assumed he excelled at it due to his lack of meddling as Her Majesty’s representative, presuming he was extremely rational about it. However, there is the other possibility that he has not been controlling his emotions like that. In other words, that he has not been compromising himself but simply has no dissatisfaction with playing the part of prince consort.”
“And?”
“The final offensive on the swarm raptors was technically led by him, but as he did it, I could feel the slightest reluctance to his actions. Combining these facts, I believe that while he is indeed a member of the royal family, he prefers to stand in the shadows rather than up front. While he is a man, he is loath to stand and proclaim his victories. If it is indeed the case, then I believe we would be able to count on his assistance if we wished to take public credit for something or to increase our military renown.”
“I see. I understand what you wish to say, and it is indeed intriguing should it prove true.” The count nodded deeply, his expression remaining unchanged by his son’s lengthy explanation.
What Rafaello wished to say was simple. Nearly any male noble would want the chance to stand for credit or win militarily. Royals could create such circumstances, but if there was a royal who didn’t want those opportunities for himself, there could indeed be a good deal to be made. It was akin to the difference between asking a notorious wino for a superb vintage and asking someone uninterested in the drink. It went without saying which one would be easier to convince.
“Very well. Of course, I cannot determine our family’s course based solely on your opinion, but I shall bear it in mind. You have done well.”
“Thank you, father. If there is nothing else you wish of me, I would like to return home once the banquet to welcome Princess Freya is over,” he said with a smile, feeling his intentions had gotten through to his father. Therefore, he felt comfortable requesting permission to return to their lands. It wasn’t ideal for both the current lord and heir apparent to be away. Of course, with a domain as large as the Márquez’s, there were enough people to keep it running for up to half a year without their leaders, but their presence was always preferable.
Therefore, Rafaello’s request made perfect sense. However, contrary to his expectations, the count shook his head.
“There is more. Your return will be delayed. This is still confidential, but General Pujol will be married before long.”
Rafaello’s eyes widened at the information which had barely spread at all within the capital.
“Oh, at last? Who might the bride be?”
“The eldest daughter of the Gaziel family, Lucinda.”
Even Rafaello was initially lost for words at the answer, and a shocked smile made its way onto his face as he shrugged. “Well... I suppose all I can say is that we could expect no less of the general. He and his ambition know no fear.”
“Indeed, he stands to gain much but also to potentially lose much. The royal family will likely remain vigilant in regards to him for at least as long as Her Majesty lives. That said, while it does not involve our family, I wish for you to attend and represent our household. You should decide who you want to accompany you.”
“I see. I assume that my stepmother or Mirella are unsuitable?” Rafaello asked just to be sure, since attending a marriage as an unmarried adult man with a woman was essentially a declaration that there was the intention for a relationship between them. Conversely, a man with no one to make such a promise to would ask either an already married relative or a girl who was not yet of marriageable age. Mirella was his cousin. Manuel nodded as if the answer went without saying.
“Indeed. You need to get married. While it is not a competition with the general, it is about time for you to marry as well. I have chosen some candidates myself, and I will consider any that you wish to mention. So?”
Thus, his father unilaterally decided that Rafaello would marry and declared it as if it were obvious. For his part, Rafaello was not dissatisfied with the order; he accepted it as completely natural. It was yet more proof that he was still just “the good son.”
“Someone for me to marry? Any woman you select would most likely be of no concern, but as far as my own suggestions go, I would prefer someone like stepmother,” Rafaello said, mentioning his stepmother (over five years his junior) as his ideal woman. His own father’s second wife. It was a rather risky joke, but they were close enough that it would indeed pass as such. Also, Octavia was popular enough that there was a real sense of persuasion to what he said.
His father grinned victoriously at that.
“That is impossible; even Capua lacks two women of Octavia’s caliber.”
“Yes, yes, I know. In that case, I have no real requests. As long as there are no major problems with her personality or abilities, the only thing that remains is whether our married life can go well. That would be contingent on the effort she and I were to put in, though.”
“I see. I shall reach out to the first candidate, then. She is the second daughter of Baron Massana, Lady Kisha.”
“Lady Kisha of the Massana family? I seem to recall they are distant relations of ours, and our lands border each other. I don’t believe there is a particularly large disparity in status either, but...”
The cause for his startled expression was that although the Massana family was not lowly by any means, it was not highly ranked either. Feudal lord though the baron may have been, his territory was extremely small and even court nobles without peerage or land could hold more influence if they had an important post. That was how weak their position was. That said, as a feudal lord, he still had his own lands and army, and due to that land being connected to the Márquez’s, an alliance would still be of benefit.
However, Rafaello felt that the family was a little lacking in position for the heir apparent of one of the ten strongest families in Capua to take one of them as a wife. It matched the Márquez family’s preference for stability over vicissitudes, and for low-risk low-reward over high-risk high-reward, but the “reward” still felt too low.
Manuel grinned once more at his son before speaking like a magician revealing his trick.
“You can imagine most of the circumstances. If she came from too grand a family, it would be hard to manage as the next head. It would be better for there to be a clear difference in status to forestall any issues. The other thing is that the charm lies not in the Massana family, but in Lady Kisha herself.”
“Ah, I have heard her name several times before. I seem to remember she is seen as fairly beautiful within society. A different beauty from my stepmother, though.”
“Indeed, while she is not as popular as Octavia, she is enough of a woman that there are a fair number of men who prefer her. She is five years younger as well, so I would say the two will only be compared societally for a very short time.”
Refined, graceful, and reserved. That described Octavia, the embodiment of the average Capuan man’s ideal. Unlike her, however, Kisha Massana was a beautiful woman who boasted a voluptuous body and beguiling expression. She was even allowed to wear the emblematic color of the country, red, to show that she was among the highest skilled dancers. If a modern person from Earth saw her furious dance in the red native clothing, they might even think of Carmen.
“That would make her twenty this year, no? It is rather rare for a woman of Lady Kisha’s renown to remain unmarried for so long. Is the baron intending to leave things until the last moment to have his pick of families?”
In which case, his tactic had seen great success. After all, they were to receive a proposal from the next head of the Márquez family. However, the count answered his son’s question with a completely blank expression and a surprising statement.
“Not at all; there are no issues with Lady Kisha even should she age past twenty. After all, she entered the inner palace as a maid the year before last. A few extra years is nothing compared to such a position.”
“I see...so that’s the reason,” he said, letting out a sigh before tiredly massaging his eyes with his right thumb and index finger. “Father, I was under the impression that I just suggested we keep our distance from Sir Zenjirou...”
His father gave a disdainful shrug at the rare critical tone. “I intend to do so. However, a family such as ours is important within the country, and Sir Zenjirou is the queen’s prince consort. We cannot maintain such a distance indefinitely. Therefore we should proactively probe to find out his values as soon as possible.”
That was completely correct. However, the count would not have chosen Rafaello’s wife-to-be just for that. He simply hadn’t changed his choice despite their earlier conversation.
Rafaello himself had said that once they understood him, Zenjirou would make a good ally, so he couldn’t complain.
Manuel continued his explanation. “Octavia’s reports from her time at the inner palace say that Sir Zenjirou has a surprisingly amicable relationship with the maids.”
“You mean he took one as a mistress?!” Rafaello couldn’t contain his surprise at that. However, the answer was even more unexpected.
“Not amiable in that way. He has no woman in that type of relationship, but they are exceedingly close on a day-to-day basis, and the maids seem to find him to be affable. He is rather well-liked by them. Of course, none of this has been stated explicitly; it is simply Octavia’s impression upon seeing them interact.”
“Not in that sort of relationship and yet he’s affable with the maids? He hasn’t laid hands on them...but is still well-liked by them? That honestly makes me even more wary. What on earth? I cannot fathom him, in personality or values,” Rafaello said, raising his hands in somewhat joking surrender. “Is Sir Zenjirou particularly taken with Lady Kisha?”
“Unfortunately not. Her family is simply the only one who suits our circumstances. Viscount Regalado’s family would be suited in terms of prestige, but their position is somewhat unique, as you know. Careless interference would be a risk. Besides, his daughter is a bit too young, while Lady Kisha is of a more suitable age.”
“I see.”
Rafaello put his hand on his chin and considered his father’s words. A twenty-year-old who had been the talk of society recently and now worked in the inner palace as a maid. Her looks were certainly first-class, and if she was chosen to work in the inner palace, there should be no major problems with her personality. Her current age was still within the norm to marry, if only just, and when you took into account the benefit of her having spent two years in the inner palace, it was no issue at all.
Finally coming to a conclusion, he calmly made his decision. “Very well. I will want to meet her, and I still might refuse if there is something unforeseen, so I would appreciate you not making any firm decisions yet. You can continue things as if we will marry, though.”
“Understood, in which case I can progress things to the point where you can announce your engagement as soon as you wish. I would like you to be able to have her accompany you to General Pujol’s wedding as your fiancée,” Manuel replied, nodding in satisfaction at his son meeting his expectations.
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Three days had passed since the parade had ended without incident, and Freya’s party had been formally welcomed into the country through a ceremony at the royal palace.
The royal family had decided to host the banquet that night to welcome them in deference to the exhaustion of their long journey from Valentia. Several sparkling chandeliers along with multiple candlesticks were illuminating the banquet hall, and men and women were gathered in their finery, chatting.
During the active season, the temperatures stayed at a level that could be described as warm rather than hot, and the nights were cool and pleasant. This meant that the guests’ outfits were different from those worn during the hotter parts of the year. There was variation, of course, but the outfits were much more decadent during this season. Much as the concept of ‘autumn fashion’ was a thing in modern Japan, temperatures that allowed one to wear a number of layers without getting too hot made it the season with the greatest degree of fashion freedom.
The most eye-catching individuals among the ladies and gentlemen dressed to the nines were of course the guests of honor, Princess Freya and the warrior Victoria Kronkvist, also known as Skaji.
Freya had emphasized her position as captain of the Glasir’s Leaf in Valentia, so she often wore men’s clothing. However, now she was here as a princess and naturally wore the clothing expected of her. Her light blue dress was something from the distant Kingdom of Uppasala. It was simple in design and decorated with a minimum of lace. However, a closer look showed that there were blue sapphires across it, something only permitted for the Uppasalan royal family. It was more than beautiful enough to draw the eye.
On top of that, the woman herself had short silver-blue hair and icy blue eyes, making her a mysterious beauty. Her skin seemed almost impossibly pale to those from the Southern Continent, and her appearance was ethereally beautiful.
Freya’s smile remained on her face even as the guests’ gazes converged on her, regardless of gender, and whispered rumors spread throughout the room. She was born royalty, so she was used to the attention.
She walked along the red carpet, several shadows forming around her from the chandeliers as she followed her homeland’s etiquette with her gait. She had been told ahead of time that someone of lower status addressing someone of higher status was against Capuan etiquette, so she was moving to an area where she could initiate conversation, surveying her surroundings with a smile. However, before she could do so, someone else approached her.
“Hey, it’s good to meet you, Northern Princess. I’d like to exchange greetings; would you be amenable?”
The words were light and calm, coming from a blond-haired, blue-eyed man wearing a deep purple tuxedo-like affair. Behind him was a girl with chestnut-colored hair, wearing a lighter purple dress.
“Of course. May I ask your name?” she replied, despite already having a good idea of who they were.
“Thank you. I am from the Twin Kingdoms of Sharou-Gilbelle, the eldest son of the first prince of the Sharou family, Josep. My name is Francesco.”
“I am also of the Sharou family, and my name is Bona.”
Prince Francesco and Princess Bona. As the two royals from the central power of the Southern Continent introduced themselves, Freya acted as the representative of her homeland and returned the introduction with her soft smile in place.
“Thank you for your courtesy. I am the eldest daughter of King Gustav V, Freya. This is my confidant, Victoria Kronkvist, or Skaji.”
The tall warrior behind her simply bowed deeply and wordlessly as the royals exchanged introductions. Skaji, of course, was not armed. She had removed her leather armor and was wearing a blue militaryesque uniform stitched with silver thread. Her lower half was covered with a feminine skirt, but a closer inspection revealed that it only fell to her knees and actually had deep cuts up the side. Underneath was a pair of half-length pants that were integrated with the skirt.
The outfit allowed her a similar range of movement to standard pants if it came to it. Despite that, it still gave a feminine impression and might well have been standard Uppasalan dress uniform for the country’s female warriors.
“Oh, a reliable escort. Good to meet you,” he said.
Despite that, her wordless response had made it clear that she was there only to guard Freya, so he turned his cheerful smile back to the princess.
“May I call you Princess Freya? It’s the first time I’ve met someone from the Northern Continent, so I am rather excited despite myself. I would appreciate an insight into the continent’s culture if you would be willing.”
Francesco’s disposition meant that despite his somewhat overfamiliar interaction with someone for a first meeting, they weren’t unhappy about it. His disposition might well be an even more powerful ability than being able to manipulate two bloodlines’ lineal magics.
Bona’s clear discomfort and nerves under her forced smile put a slight damper on the mood, but Freya answered the foreign prince with a smile, not taking offense.
“I would be thrilled if we have the time. While I am somewhat embarrassed to show my ignorance, I had not heard of the fame of the Twin Kingdoms of Sharou-Gilbelle until I arrived here. I would greatly appreciate such information from you as well.”
“I would be more than happy. It is no surprise that someone from the Northern Continent would be unaware of the Twin Kingdoms. We’re a landlocked country in the center of the continent, after all, so we don’t interact with the North.”
“I see. My thanks for that information. However, both you and Princess Bona are far closer in appearance to us than those of the Kingdom of Capua, are you not?”
The query was only natural. While there were differences in degree, dark skin was more common on the Southern Continent, and the two foreign royals had skin tones that were much paler. They were similar enough that someone unfamiliar with the four people involved in the conversation would believe that they were from the same place.
Francesco chuckled amiably at her statement as he answered. “Right, I think that’s because our ancestors emigrated from the Northern Continent. There’s a fair amount of blood from the Southern Continent now, so there are darker-skinned royals and nobles as well, but most are similar in looks to us,” he answered.
“Oh, I see,” Freya answered, an expression of polite interest on her face as she considered the oddities of what he had just said.
Maintaining a different appearance from the locals of a new area wasn’t that strange a concept. The word emigration implied that it wasn’t just one or two people, and she could easily imagine the royal family avoiding marrying members of the local population to protect their lineal magic. Their tenacity when it came to such matters had most likely also manifested in the preservation of their physical appearance as well.
The problem was that that royal family had ended up in a completely landlocked country. The only way to emigrate from the Northern Continent to the Southern Continent was, of course, by crossing the sea. While it had happened hundreds of years ago and was therefore impossible to know the details of, the ancestors of the Twin Kingdoms must have arrived by sea before making landfall. And yet, despite that, the country was completely landlocked. Of course, there was the possibility that the borders had expanded and contracted many times over the years; however, when one took into account that the Twin Kingdoms was said to reign over the center of the continent, it seemed unlikely.
Most people would not forget that something had been taken from them. If there was some stretch of coastline that had once been a territory of the Twin Kingdoms, there would be people pushing to reclaim it.
Freya thought of another possibility. Innocently, her smile held firmly in place, she questioned him. “So, is the other royal family of the Twin Kingdoms, the Gilbelle Papacy, similar to your own in appearance?”
“They are. Each of our families has their own characteristic look and build, of course, but neither is vastly different from people of the Northern Continent.”
Francesco’s carefree answer only created more questions. Two royal families with lineal magic both emigrated to the Southern Continent? On top of that, they both took the same path and joined forces to create a single country? That seems highly suspect.
Royal families with lineal magic were often fiercely independent. Of course, Freya wasn’t aware of every country that had ever existed on the Northern Continent and could not definitively rule it out, but she could not think of a country that would be reasonable for either the Sharou or Gilbelle families to have lived independently.
Enchantment and healing were both extraordinarily useful magics. If a family had possessed those then surely there would be at least some legend of their individual countries, even if they had collapsed.
Of course, national strength is not determined solely by lineal magic, so I would believe a dynasty could die out without leaving its mark on history, and even that the descendants of such a dynasty had not died out but had instead traveled to the Southern Continent. Yet...
Despite the endless questions, it was not a matter to consider then and there, she decided, cutting herself off and shifting to lighter topics.
“The Southern Continent seems replete with drakes,” she said. “I am rather envious. It was my first time riding in a drake-drawn carriage, and I must admit I could not contain my excitement.”
The topic must have been of interest to the prince as well, as he almost leaped to discuss it.
“Right, there are few drakes on the Northern Continent. Even as far as dash drakes are concerned, those of this region and the Twin Kingdoms’ are rather different. Those of this region are often green and thrive in high humidity while those of my homeland are more likely to be sandy colors and thrive in dryness.”
“Oh? So they are indeed considerably dissimilar, despite being on the same continent.”
“Yes, the cultural norms are different between the western and central regions as well. Even the architecture is vastly different, so one town can look utterly unlike another from one region to the next.”
“I see. Intriguing.”
The two of them continued discussing their countries’ cultures for a while.
“Now announcing Her Majesty Queen Aura and Sir Zenjirou!” came a call after some time, proclaiming the queen and prince consort’s arrival.
“Prince Francesco, Princess Bona, I must go and offer my greetings to Their Majesties. Please excuse me,” she said to the Twin Kingdoms royals before moving to leave.
“In which case, we can accompany you. The two of us need to offer our own greetings as well,” Francesco suggested.
“Indeed, Princess Freya. We would appreciate your allowing us to accompany you.”
Freya had no real reason to refuse them. They were all in the same position as far as such greetings were concerned.
“Very well; together then,” she agreed with a smile.
“Your Majesties, I highly appreciate you preparing such an occasion for me. As a representative of the Uppasalan delegation, I, Freya Uppasala offer my deepest thanks,” she said, her tone comfortable and clear as she offered a small bow of her head in addition to a curtsy.
Queen Aura straightened her back and almost seemed to push her voluptuous breasts out in response to the princess’s greeting before offering a generous nod.
“You seem to have recovered from the exhaustion of such a long trip. This banquet is to welcome you. I am more than happy for you to relax and enjoy yourself.”
“Tonight is an informal occasion, Princess Freya. I hope you can take the opportunity to let your hair down and enjoy yourself.”
“Indeed, thank you,” Freya answered the well-wishes from Aura and Zenjirou with a bow clearly different from the norm in the Southern Continent. Despite its unfamiliarity, it was evident to everyone that it was extremely refined.
The past year and a half had made Zenjirou relatively au fait with royal etiquette, but he obviously paled in comparison to Aura, who had been born into the role. For this reason, he generally let her take the lead in these situations and positioned himself off to the side. He would even have preferred to position himself a step farther back, but that would have gone against the role of a man in Capuan society. Queen and prince consort though they were, the man standing behind her would lead to some form of discomfort among others.
“It has been over a month since you came to our lands but very little time since your arrival in the capital. It goes without saying that the cuisine here is significantly different from Valentia. While both will be different from your homeland and therefore not to your tastes, I hope you are able to satisfy yourself tonight,” Aura offered.
“Indeed, I have already partaken, Your Majesty. All of this country’s cuisines are so stimulating.”
“Unfortunately, I have not had the opportunity to taste any foods from the Northern Continent, so I’m not certain myself, but I assume there is indeed a significant difference?”
“Of course, Your Majesty. We have no drakes as livestock—our meats are usually goats, cows, and pigs. In Uppasala, we also have reindeer. There are a surprising number of vegetables that are the same, but the seasoning is distinctly different. There are no dishes on the Northern Continent that use such large amounts of spice and sugar.”
Aura and Freya used the topic of cuisine as a literal appetizer for their conversation. Discussing food and clothing was relatively unlikely to cause offense and so was often used as a starting point.
With things as they were, Zenjirou decided he should be able to leave the discussion to Aura for a while longer. His gaze shifted suddenly to the side only to be dragged into a conversation by the purple-clad blond with a friendly smile, as if the man had been waiting for his moment.
“It’s been a while, Your Majesty. You’re already offering a good time,” the man—Francesco—offered, hoisting a chalice containing a cocktail based on distilled liquor.
“It has been some time, Your Majesty. We are very grateful that you invited us here today,” Bona added, appearing from behind the prince in her role as his minder.
She had her usual appearance as well. Her hair was in its characteristically wavy style, silver dust scattered through the cascading chestnut coloring. She was also wearing a simple, light purple dress. It suited her well and fit the current event too, but if Zenjirou’s memories were correct, her hairstyle and outfit were an almost daily thing. The dresses themselves were, of course, different from one day to the next, but they were all simple and light purple. Zenjirou felt like he could almost see her desire to put in the bare minimum of effort for fashion.
Regardless, he had been greeted by the prince and princess of the Twin Kingdoms, so he had to respond.
“Good evening, Prince Francesco, Princess Bona. I hope you both enjoy yourselves,” he said, leaving the guest of honor to his wife and turning to the other two. They were of more or less equal standing, and he knew their temperaments, so they were not particularly stressful to interact with.
Feeling relaxed, he struck up more of a conversation.
“I believe your outfit may be one I have not seen before, Prince Francesco.”
“You have a keen eye, Your Majesty. This is the newest shirt I had the city’s tailors make,” he pointed out proudly, his finger falling not on the purple tuxedo but on the white shirt beneath it.
Spotting the new article from just the small amount of it visible through the tuxedo was indeed something Zenjirou could be called discerning for. Of course, he had noticed it due to seeing the flat, four-holed buttons, not due to any real insight into fashion.
He didn’t know how things were on the Northern Continent, but such buttons were not the norm in the South. He had noticed only due to the items being something that he had brought with him and granted the merchants that entered the inner palace permission to replicate, so a shirt utilizing them would certainly be new.
Buttons, excluding those made of simple wood, were usually almost decorations in and of themselves, and they cost a commensurate amount. Due to that, royals and aristocrats usually had large, extravagant buttons.
“These are interesting. The flatness means that they are no bother even under other clothes, and the four separate holes used to sew them on make them extremely hardy. It’s a rather simple idea once you hear of it, but I’m blown away,” Francesco said.
At that, Bona—who usually remained a step farther back—joined the discussion with interest.
“Are those buttons whittled from drake bone? I see. They are simple, but carving them so finely and creating four holes so close together without breaking them is far from easy. If you do not take the thread into account and polish the edges well, then they will end up catching the thread while it is being sewn on.”
Naturally, though, Bona’s interest was not in the fashion but rather in the techniques used to create it.
That’s an odd thought, actually. She likes precious gems but doesn’t wear them herself. I suppose her interests are just extremely focused? And Prince Francesco’s are way too open.
“Indeed,” Zenjirou replied as those thoughts passed through his mind. “The finished article is simple, but they require perhaps even finer technique than goes into normal buttons. However, I daresay the both of you would not find it too difficult?”
“You’re right. It might be fun to make some from silver or copper. They would tarnish quite quickly, though, so they’d probably need a lot of care. It’s rather easy to get attached when you put the effort in.”
“Perhaps I could make some from the coral you provided, Sir Zenjirou? I could carve red coral into a flower and add the holes; it would be both practical and decorative.”
Francesco showed interest in anything new, while Bona was only moved by discussions of jewelry. It was nice that the conversation with the two was going well, but when the word coral left Bona’s lips, there was a slight sense of guilt behind Zenjirou’s forced smile.
Sorry, that technically isn’t a souvenir from me. My maid, Ines, picked it...
Zenjirou had hurriedly returned from Valentia after the upheaval and had been unable to buy the souvenirs he had promised. He had sent a dwarf wyvern to Ines, who had remained in Valentia, and the woman had bought the coral and pearl in his place. Francesco and Bona had been overjoyed with the gift, but it had pained Zenjirou.
Regardless, he couldn’t discuss that and kept his expression smooth as he continued the conversation. “That sounds good. Why not try some other materials as well? I am just a layman, but do you think similar things would be possible with amber and jade?”
“That sounds amazing! How wonderful. If we were going to use such beautiful stones, though, perhaps the normal, larger buttons would be better. Actually, using such materials for even hidden buttons might be even more fashionable...”
While Bona was usually rather reserved, she would easily grow excited when jewelry was brought up. That was fine, but she could quickly forget herself and go too far.
Zenjirou decided that the risk of that was too great and changed the subject early, somewhat forcefully bringing a new topic up. “I seem to remember you arrived with Princess Freya? Have you already struck up a friendship?” he asked.
“Indeed, we were talking with Princess Freya until the two of you arrived.”
“She was kind enough to speak with us after our greetings.”
Freya had most likely heard their answers and took advantage of a break in her conversation with Aura to smile and join the trio’s.
“Indeed, these two were most friendly. Their tales of the Twin Kingdoms were different from Capua, and both are intriguing to me, having been born in the North.”
“Not at all,” Francesco insisted. “Your tales of the Northern Continent were also deeply interesting. I would like to discuss it with you at a later date, in fact.”
“I would be more than willing, Prince Francesco.”
Whether it was the case for Francesco or not, the word ‘intriguing’ from Freya was not just a matter of friendliness, but no one there pointed that out.
“Thank you, Princess Freya,” the prince answered with an innocent, childish smile. “Oh, that reminds me, I’m glad to speak to you with His Majesty present. Were you aware that he has extremely deep knowledge? The contents of the chalice Lady Skaji is holding were created by him.” The blond prince was almost proud for some reason as he added, “Right, Your Majesty?”
Zenjirou grit his teeth at the uncalled-for statement, but there was no particular secrecy around distillation.
“Ah, well, I did indeed make it, but I wouldn’t say I have deep knowledge,” he protested humbly, trying to move the conversation along.
Freya, however, was sharp and didn’t let that happen. “Oh, is that so? You made spirits?” she asked with somewhat exaggerated surprise. Skaji was simply shocked and looked at the chalice in her hand with wide eyes.
Aura could see that he needed help and spoke unconcernedly. “Oh, so I assume that distilled spirits are normal on the Northern Continent?” she asked.
“They are,” the princess answered easily. “Distillation exists on the Northern Continent. But it is a relatively recent innovation, so it is not exactly common.”
It didn’t show in her expression at all, but Freya had clearly revised her wariness and estimation of Zenjirou. The people of the Northern Continent boasted better technology than the Southern Continent, so hearing that some of her country’s latest advances—even if it was simply a luxury liquor—had been implemented on the Southern Continent would inevitably raise her estimation of whoever had accomplished it.
“I see. Then I would welcome your frank opinions. We only produce small amounts as yet, but I would like to expand it into a national industry,” Aura explained, her expression unchanging.
Freya gave a slight, regretful shrug. “I apologize, but I find spirits too strong and rarely drink them. I imagine Skaji would be more knowledgeable than myself.”
The warrior started as the conversation suddenly turned to her, but she was the princess’s bodyguard and confidant. She was likely used to being asked for her opinion from such high-ranking individuals, and her tone was flat and absent of both nerves or excitement as she answered.
“I suppose so. I can tell that the liquor was simply distilled and added to fruit juice. That is a fine way to drink it, of course, but the spirits that I know from the Northern Continent are sealed in wooden casks for several years, which grants it the color, aroma, and even flavor.”
“Oh, maturation?” Zenjirou asked, unintentionally responding to her advice.
The Northern Continent had established techniques similar to those used with whiskey and brandy, allowing the alcohol to mature for a long period.
“You know of it, Zenjirou?” Aura asked, almost let down.
“Not quite, Your Majesty,” Zenjirou hurriedly explained. “I know the method exists but not enough to put it into practice.”
Despite sealing the distillate in a wooden cask, Zenjirou wasn’t aware of the details. What wood was best for such a process? He seemed to remember that whiskey barrels used wood that was charred on the inside, but how strongly and to what extent? Was there anything else to be aware of? Perfecting it would take many trials, and maturation took years. Establishing the technique through trial and error would take a decade at least.
There was no need for him to panic, so he decided to postpone it and explain the rest to Aura once they returned to the inner palace. But as he made that decision, the icy-blue-eyed woman in front of him crinkled her eyes as she smiled.
“Sir Zenjirou, you truly do know a great deal. As Prince Francesco said, I would greatly appreciate a calmer discussion about it.”
“Indeed. We will need to meet to deal with the formalities of the goats, so I would be more than happy to discuss things with you then,” he offered, sidestepping the offensive.
However, Francesco’s next statement was practically circling around to intercept his avoidance. “What? But then I won’t be able to hear. Your Majesty, I don’t mind if it ends up being later, but meet with me as well.”
As informal as the banquet was, Francesco’s behavior was right on the edge of acceptability, and Bona’s face went through its now normal draining of color as she tugged at his sleeve.
“Y-Your Highness,” she pleaded.
Fortunately, the royals who had gathered were all magnanimous, and no one scorned his impolite words and actions. However, etiquette aside, Aura dashed the prince’s hopes.
“Unfortunately, your hope will remain unanswered. Zenjirou will be away for a while, acting as my representative.”
“What? Again?!”
Francesco was the only one to express his dissatisfaction, but both Bona and Freya were similarly shocked. The prince consort had only ever left the capital once when he had gone to Valentia to welcome Freya’s delegation. In other words, something of the same, or at least similar, importance would be taking place in a remote region soon.
“Where are you going, Your Highness?” the silver-haired royal asked innocently.
Zenjirou’s gaze wandered as he considered what to say. “Ah, well, you see...”
His wife offered him some support, seeing that he wasn’t certain whether he should be open about it or not.
“My husband will be heading for the Gaziel march. The matter is currently classified, so I would appreciate keeping it between us, but a wedding of one of our leaders will be taking place there,” she said, lowering her voice conspiratorially.
Of course, that “classification” was a lie. While, strictly speaking, General Pujol and Lucinda Gaziel’s marriage had not been publicly announced, it was what was commonly called an open secret. Most nobles who entered the palace would be aware of it. It was still unannounced, so it wasn’t information to spread around, but there was no law against rumors. And, of course, no punishment either. She wouldn’t speak of it openly to the foreign royals when she could be overheard by anyone who listened closely, yet there was a certain amount of excitement to secrecy, even if it was just a formality.
Freya’s pale cheeks were tinged ever so slightly red as she leaned forward. “Oh, a marriage? You mentioned the Gaziel march, so is Lord Xavier perhaps getting married?” she asked.
Freya had met Xavier when the swarm raptors had spilled over into Valentia and had gotten on well with him. He was one of her few acquaintances after her short stay in the country.
“No, not Lord Xavier, but his sister, the family’s eldest daughter, Lady Lucinda. She will be marrying the current head of the Guillén family, General Pujol,” Aura explained.
That was a name even Freya had heard. Even in the single month she had spent at the duke’s estate, she had heard of the man both as the initial leader of the swarm raptor subjugation and through rumors that he was the best general in Capua.
The wedding of a general who represented the country was more than enough reason for the prince consort to represent the queen. The calculations flew through her head until she reached a bold conclusion.
“Your Majesty, I am somewhat acquainted with the Gaziel family myself. Could I trouble you to allow me to accompany you?”
There were three royal families gathered together when she said that, with five people total, and the other attendees surrounding them were obviously listening in. Freya’s bold request ushered in a deafening silence in the banquet hall.
Irritated by the attention on them, Aura kept her voice calm as she remonstrated the Northern princess. “Princess Freya, I imagine you are unaware, but attending a wedding with an unrelated woman is usually done only when a deep relationship exists. I know it was not your intention, but were you perhaps slightly rash in making such a request?”
Regardless of her gentle tone, the queen’s displeasure was evident in her warning, but Freya didn’t falter. If anything, her smile grew even deeper.
“Oh, is that right? It is much the same as on the Northern Continent. Allow me to reiterate, Sir Zenjirou. I wish to attend the wedding as your partner, and I hope you will consider it,” she said loudly enough to be heard across the room.
Then, she took the hem of her skirt in both hands and bowed deeply enough to show the back of her neck.
A shocked gasp came from Skaji. She was the only other person in the room who knew the significance of that gesture. A deep bow and lowering of the head. It was a gesture used by women in Uppasala to initiate courtship.